Unscathed
by sefie
Summary: The struggle to take down Wesker and Umbrella has started, but nothing is without a price. Will the price be a Redfield's life?
1. Alive?

**Author's Note:**This is my first fanfiction to publish here and hopefully not my last. I know right now it's extremely short, but hopefully I can add a new chapter every four or so days. I'd appreciate if 'yall left me some comments, telling me what you liked and where I should improve. This fiction is based a few months after the RE:CV incident and includes Steve Burnside, Albert Wesker, Claire Redfield, Chris Redfield (later to come) and a few more of our favorite Resident Evil characters. As it moves on later, it'll grow and change scenes a lot. For the first few chapters it'll focus on Mr. Burnside and Miss. Redfield escaping from a lab created by Wesker, so be patient. And here's a little FYI for you.. everytime you see a "----" in this story, it means a scene/pov change. I hope it's not too confusing in the beginning and I hope that you like it.

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**_Chapter 1: Alive?_**

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It was morbid the way that the young man's body resembled a pincushion; needles and other monitoring devices had been cruelly jabbed into his stiff flesh. His clothes were the same as they had been when he died.. it was almost as if they hadn't cared enough to dress him in a hospital gown even though his yellow shirt and army pants were caked in blood. The room was a blinding white and appeared to be completely empty except for the corpse, machinery and a Biohazard sign that was plastered on the left wall next what appeared to be a door. A beep sounded as the green flat line on the heart monitor suddenly jumped, forming a series of jagged lines. The boy sat up and opened up his mouth to shout as the door thrust open and men in white coats carrying various instruments ran in.

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"You're going to be crushed like a cockroach, just like Steve was." Wesker illustrated his point by balling up a fist and slamming it into her face. Claire felt the numb and blinding pain attack her whole body as she flew backwards, hitting a lamppost with a dull thud. He then brought his foot to her gut while pounding on her nose and eyes with his right hand.

Ahe knew she had to fight back in order to live, but she found that she couldn't even lift her arm, let alone take a swing. Judging by the way it lay at her side, crooked and oddly bent, it was severely fractured. She blinked back tears as he sent his foot into the side of her head again.

Claire moaned bitterly while turning to the side, spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva. This action only brought another combat boot into her face, followed by a roundhouse kick to her upper body. Wincing in pain, she scooted back hoping to get a break from the onslaught of attacks. No such luck.

He grabbed her arm roughly, looking into her eyes. "Chris will be so happy to know that I've killed his sister," Wesker laughed a few more times, "Damn.. it's a real shame that Steve is back at the prisons..." A harsh grin spread over his face and a series of laughs followed. His laugh only hurt her ears and accelerated the dull throbbing in her head, stomach and arms.

She pushed him away feebly and attempted to stand up. With her good hand she reached into her vest pocket, emerging with a glock. She knew this couldn't kill him, in fact, she doubted anything could at this point. The gun was merely a last resort effort to gain some control in a situation where she had none. She aimed it at his head, slowly backing away. "What did you do to him?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement as his gaze turned to her and then the gun. He didn't know what was more laughable; the fact that she seemed proud of escaping from him (you see he'd let her loose just for the pure pleasure of game of a cat and mouse), or the idea that she wanted to see her pretty boy. He smirked. "Well, well Miss Redfield, I'm flattered. You're going to struggle, in vain, just to lose your life."

Turning away from his gaze like a wounded dog does when it has just bit its master, she realized that she ached all over; just the act of standing was becoming a chore. Aside from the pain, her mind was also focused on what he had said about Steve Burnside being alive. Did he have side effects from the Veronica virus? She needed to know. Walking slowly backwards, gun aimed on Wesker, she repeated, "Is he alive?"

"Who, Steve?" He took a step towards her in an attempt to see her reaction. He recognized the pain in her eyes when he said the name Steve. Ah, so this was Claire's weakness. Steve. The grin returned.

"Is he alive? What did you do to him?" She stared at him, clutching her wounded arm and lowering the firearm; she needed to see Steve and now. "If he is alive, take me to him."In one smooth motion he knocked the gun out of her hands and sent a karate chop to her temple. He watched as she dropped gracelessly to the ground, unconscious. "Well, well.. maybe that bastard brother of yours will come to rescue you."

---

He paced around violently in his dreary prison room. He had spent what he thought to be around four days cooped up in this unpleasantly cramped area after coming back to life and he had not seen anything more than a few men with assault rifles. He didn't know what to do, but he was almost a hundred percent sure Claire was in trouble from the bits of conversation that he had overheard from the scientists who checked on him every few hours; they appeared to be utterly facinated with his 'rebirth'. He was also a hundred percent sure that he had to save her. However, for the time being this wasn't probable, seeing as how he couldn't leave his cell. In his frustration, he kicked the rusted bars and went back to his bed in the corner, thinking about her. Her smile, her hair.. despite the current circumstances, he was still completely infatuated with the female he had gotten to work side by side with. He was wondering how she was doing when it hit him like a ton of bricks. If he had come back, that must mean Alexia had too.

Steve got up from his cot and stood in the corner. He was looking at the empty cell across from his, fully emerged in thoughts. If Alexia Ashford was alive like he believed she would most definitely go after the Redfields, seeing as how when they killed Alfred they had destroyed the Ashford Family legacy. His mind had drifted to how he was going to escape when he heard several sets of footsteps coming from further down the hall. He could also hear voices of guards and a dragging sound.

"Whose the babe?" A rough voice questioned. Steve blinked; female prisoners were rare.

"Not sure.. I think she's number 400 this month. And from what I gather, she's important. Looks beat up too."

"Jesus Christ, look at that arm. Looks like she needs some medical attention." The footsteps were approaching his cell rapidly. He decided that there were two guards, and from the sound of their heavy footsteps, they were overweight.

"Hold on, she's moving." There was a pause as if something had just dawned on the man that the voice belonged to. "Andy.. I don't think, well, you didn't secure the handcuffs right.. prick! Boss'll--" Steve heard rustling and a few moans; a struggle had ensued. Silence followed and the world seemed to stop for a minute. He had never felt so blind in his life before.

"Fuck, this goddamn bitch bit me!" There was a lingering silence and Steve cringed as the memories of Rockfort Island hit his mind; the moaning of the Zombies, the shuffle of the undead as they closed in, the prisoners being eaten alive while screaming for his help and then finally and perhaps most harshly, the memory of his father ran through his brain. He closed his eyes and it was as if he could almost smell the rotting flesh. Steve thought he had escaped that, thought he'd made it out alive. But the guard said he was a bit and that led to the question: was this girl a Zombie? Had the fucking T-Virus made it out here too? He felt desparity cloak him as he stood there, clinging to the metal bars.

Finally he heard one of the men say, "You're a fiesty little girl, tryin' to bite me. Ya think your daddy woulda taught you how to behave. Reckon I hav'ta teach you a lesson." More noise of a fight followed and then there was a groan as a solid object made contact with flabby flesh. "Ugh.. wait.. sweetie, just put down the flashli--" More sounds of impact followed by grunts of an injured man.

"Not until I get some answers, _sweetie_. Tell me, where is he?" It was her. Claire. He felt the desire to hold Claire surge through him as he leaned against the bars, hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl he had previously thought of his damsel in distress. However, it appeared that the roles had been reversed for this scene. How ironic. How damned ironic. "Where is he and where am I? Wesker agreed to take me to Steve and I'm not seeing him. I asked you once and I won't be asking again.." Another thud rang out as she sent the metal object into the guard's head again.

"I don't know. Please, let go," the guard whimpered, "You're hurting me."

"I don't know isn't a good enough answer, you idiot." She punched him. It wasn't. It never would be. She was never going to be satisfied until she knew the truth, until her thirst for knowing was sated with the bittersweet taste of understanding.

"Claire?" She stiffened. _Steve_. All this time he had been just a few prison cells away? She spun around while sending her foot into the guard's head to ensure that he would remain unconcious and looked up to the far end of the halls where the voice had cried out. The familiar, yet annoying call had quickly knocked her from the senseless rage that resembled the way a mother gets when she has found out her child is in danger. Maternal instinct. Save or die trying to save the ones you love. He called out again and it was as if nothing mattered for a brief second; her bitterness, her pain and her hurt all vanished for a few magical minutes. After some thought she took a step forward and broke into a sprint towards the direction where the voice had come from. Was he really alive?

He was.


	2. Unarmed yet Unscathed

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for the reviews guys, they're completely encouraging. I love feedback of all kinds. They made me sit down and write this chapter tonight so enjoy :)

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**Chapter 2; Unarmed yet unscathed**  
  
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A few hours after being captured and deftly thrown into the same cell as Steve Burnside was, Claire Redfield opened her eyes and blurrily surveyed the scene that lay before her. As everything came into focus, she choked back a scream; her hand raised up to cover her mouth as she gagged. And gagged. Blood was everywhere; all over the bars, all over the floor, splattered upon the cell's once off white walls. She attempted to sit up and then felt a hand around her waist. Frantically, as if she was an animal instead of a human, she knocked it off and scooted away; fearing it belonged to whatever had created the mess of red liquid. Then she took several deep breaths that quickly turned into gasps as she felt something moving next to her. She looked behind her and saw the sleeping form of a seventeen-year-old boy. "Steve?"

"Huh?" he groggily rubbed his eyes and then saw the red. He sat up and reached past Claire who was staring at him and then brushed against her, dipping a finger into the dark mixture. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled. He began to wheeze almost immediately; his jaw dropped and his face paled. He looked back at her, accusingly. "Oh shit. This.. this," he stammered, the pitch of his voice increasing, "is real blood. Claire did you hear...see anything?"

"No.. All I remember is.." That was weird. Her sentence remained incomplete for she couldn't remember anything that happened recently, especially the events leading up to their imprisonment. Claire stood up, skidding in the blood. She shook her head a few times and extended her arm out to him, "Need a hand?"

"No thanks." He stood up and smiled wanly at her. "Hey Claire, about what I said in the Antarctic."

"What about it?" Her voice sounded muffled and Steve soon realized it was because she had moved over to the other side of the cell and her back was to him. She was still wearing her trademark jacket as she examined the large rips in the metal bars; bars that were supposed to keep prisoners in. Large claw marks streaked down them, followed by more blood. In some places there were large gaps where reinforced steel had previously been.

"Well I.." Steve was interrupted as a loud roar echoed from outside.

"We'll talk later." She motioned for him to come to her and then wearily eyed the door. The lock was slashed off, and long cuts ran horizontally across the steel door. The mark of a Hunter.. the mark of Wesker. "I don't suppose you have a weapon or anything?" Her voice's tone was unreadable, he couldn't tell what she was feeling. Her gaze turned to Steve then back to the door.

"I have this.." Steve waved a well-worn combat knife around. The blade gleamed and a small grin formed on Claire's face. "When the guard knocked you out he dropped it, didn't seem to notice. Or care. I don't think they have good security in this joint."

"Gimme." She grabbed the blade from his hand and made a few swishing motions in the air, still grinning. Steve personally didn't see how she could be so happy; they were in a blood-ridden cell complete with the prospect of a front row ticket to see Death himself. Oh well. He found her smile strangely magnetic and despite the fact that he was scared he soon found himself sporting a matching grin. He was standing next to a cute girl after all.. a cute girl who could die at any minute. He grimaced at the thought.

"Don't die on me Redfield." Although Steve sounded like he was joking, he was serious. Very serious. He didn't want to lose her like he almost had back at Rockfort Island with the Bandersnatch. His skin prickled up in goose bumps when he heard another screech from outside the room. He felt like shouting out, '_don't go, stay with me, in my arms'_ but the words vanished the minute they tried to leave his mouth. He flashed her a relaxing smile and a half-hearted thumbs up.

"I'll see what I can do. The same goes for you, buddy." She sent a wink in the general direction of him as she reached the door. The grin which was plastered on her face vanished the minute she turned away from him. She muttered under her breath as she sent her foot into the door, jarring it open. She stepped out quickly, taking a look in all four directions. Never leave a side exposed, her older brother had said more than once. Where was the Hunter?

Then she saw it. Standing up on its hind legs, the beast had its back to her. _Click, click, click._ Its long claws tapped softly against the tiled floor. A flourescent light in the corner flickered on and off, in sync with the Hunter's footsteps. _Click, click_. How she hated her life at times like this. Brandishing the knife, she advanced to meet death.

She thrust it into the monster's thick back hide, dragging the blade vertically along its spine with a cracking sound. The Hunter grunted in rage and spun around, exposing a mouth full of red stained teeth. His breath reeked of decay and slaughter. Claire shivered, sending her foot into its stomach while she yanked her knife out and dropped to the floor just in time to watch a paw complete with six long claws slash at empty air. 'This would never get old,' she thought as she rolled to the side, narrowly escaping a paw as they dug into the area where she had just lay. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she locked eyes with her opponent. She slammed the knife into its head and yanked it out, only to slash the beast across the face repeatedly. The world was green as its blood proceeded to splash onto her. The Hunter had become hunted; it was hers in a matter of time. Redfields. They were always so goddamn sure of themselves.

She stabbed repeatedly while green liquid gushed out from its wounds. Eventually, the Hunter fell backwards in a bloody pool of death; a sour acidic smell infiltrated her nostrils as she sat there, panting. Claire lifted herself up away from the twitching shape and that's when she saw it. The body slumped against a wall. It was headless. Freakin' headless. She gagged and for the second time in the last twenty minutes, she found herself choking back a scream.

The scream was let loose when she felt a hand on her shoulder as she stared at the corpse. She spun around, knife in hand and saw.. Steve. "Burnside to Redfield, you okay?" His eyes showed sympathy but there was something else. Something she couldn't place. Something she didn't want to know.

"Well, the Hunter is dead.. and I'm not, so all is good?" Her hand gestured to the pile a few feet away.

"So I saw," he paused still looking into her eyes, "Uh.."

"There's a dead body behind me," she offered as she slowly stepped away from him, causing his hand to fall off her shoulder dumbly.

Steve sighed and then moved up to the corpse, kneeling down. "Blah, let me show you how it's done." He spotted a holster attached to the man's belt with a handle protruding from it. He laughed. "Hey! Look what we have here," he waved the gun deftly at Claire, "It's a glock."

Her hands reached down for it and then she heard him say, "Nono, finders keepers."

"Hey dork, I saw the corpse first therefore it's _my_ find." She yanked it from his hand and smiled sweetly.

He grunted, still examing the corpse. After grabbing something out of the man's shirt pocket, he smirked. "Keep the gun, I have the ammo and a keycard."

Claire looked at the gun and noted that it was empty. She growled. "It's all fun and games until someone gets--"

"Hurt. I know, I know. But if you want this ammo, you're going to have to do something for me."

She blinked, startled by the words. She hoped he didn't mean something sexual. "Like..?"

He was about to say that he needed some Semi-Automatic Machine guns when there was a loud thud as the airvent's cover fell off and a Hunter screamed. "I don't know.. how about kill that Hunter up the hall?" He tossed her the ammo while pocketing the card.

She glared at him as she caught it and loaded the gun with a deadly precision. "Stay behind me, Steve. Here, you can have the knife." She handed it to him. "Lets go the other direction.. away from that Hunter." She didn't seem to be too enthusiastic about the chance of getting guts on her shoes again.

He followed her, the Hunter's screams in the background slowly fading with each step.


	3. Shoulda been, coulda been, woulda been d...

**Author's notes:** Thanks for the positive feedback guys.. as a reward, I leave you with Chapter 3 and some Wesker-ism. Scratch that, a lot of Wesker-ism. ;) A little note for 'yall, anything inside of parenthesis are lyrics to a song that I feel goes with the current scene. Don't question this odditity as I just felt like doing it. Also note, I combined Chapter 3 and 4 to make this chapter. (If that makes sense)

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_Chapter 3; _Shoulda been, woulda been, coulda been dead

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The figure loomed over the control panel, a Duralim briefcase in one hand. The other reached into his black jacket and emerged with sunglasses. Putting them on he ran his fingers through his blonde hair and smiled to himself. There was something alarming and feral about his grin, it made one think of werewolves and people who changed into animals at night. He laughed harshly, submerged in his thoughts. It was such a great plan.. releasing his pets to help coverup his corperation's actions. A few hundred scientists and guards had been slaughtered in under two hours. They hadn't expected it; his little mice. His dead little mice. And now he had what he desired in his briefcase. All his for an eternity. The Veronica Virus.

"In sector two sir, there is movement by camera #023. Unauthorized movement seeing as how the plant is in lockdown mode." The voice of the computer jolted him out of his thoughts violently. "Sir..?"

"Display what that camera sees on the main screen, computer." Wesker comanded, stroking his chin as he peered intently at the large monitor in front of him. It flashed and the sound of gunfire could be heard. _Bang, bang, bang. _He blinked and watched as it focused in on the chaotic scene. A bullet-ridden Hunter screamed as it staggered into view. There was a thud as it collapsed and a pool of green formed; his poor little pet. Then he saw them walk into the camera's sight; the pretty boy and that damned Redfield. He muttered curse words under his breath. The couple was walking around in sector 2 of the building and seemed unscathed. He regreted not ending her life when he had the chance.

"Well, well. No worries," he stepped over and removed a metal box that incased a red button, "you two kids can just go down with the rest of the plant." He hit it and spun around, heading out the door.

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Claire looked at Steve and then back at the Hunter's lifeless corpse. She smiled at Steve."Wow a headshot, I'm impressed."

He flexed his arm in an attempt to show off, forgetting about the guns in his hands. He dropped the machine guns Claire had found on a guard a few minutes ago and cried out as they landed on his toe. She watched his face bunch up in pain. "Sonofa--"

He was interrupted by her laughing. He looked over and saw tears running down her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, "Good god boy, you should do standup comedy. Your strong guy act is," she snickered, "hysterical."

He blushed and tried not to look crestfallen although he was. Everything he did to impress her always got messed up. One huge fuck-up. He looked down at the ground, at the Hunter and found himself relating to the beast. 'We were both just shot down, eh buddy.' he thought as he sighed in frustration, still staring at the dead monster.

Claire looked at him, his head was hanging sullenly. He looked like a boy whose mother had just told him that he had to clean his room before he could play outside. And then she whispered, "Steve.."

He lifted his head and looked at her. She had the oddest expression on her face. "Is something--" was all he could get out before she grabbed him and pulled his body against hers, their faces only an inch apart. He could feel her breath on him. It happened fast.

(_hitmeyoucan'thurtme,suckmykiss_)

She kissed him and he, however startled, managed to kiss her back.

(_thatmouthwasmadetosuckmykiss_)

Breaking apart, they both watched one another. The air was filled with the sound of them panting. Claire was about to speak when suddenly the lights dimmed.

"Self-destruction system activated. Please evacuate the building. You have twenty-four minutes and fifty-nine seconds to proceed to the nearest exit. Remember, haste makes waste! Have a nice day."

Steve watched blankly as red lights started to flash. "Was that.. was that.."

"..From our liplock? No, I don't think so." Claire finished his sentence for him, her eyes darting nervous around. Everything was flashing crimson from those damned warning lights. She picked up his guns and then her Assault Rifle. She approached him and handed him his weapon. She cleared her throat loudly in an attempt to get Steve's attention from the self-destruct system which was spewing out the time every five seconds."Say, Burnside.."

"Hm?" He took the guns, suddenly aware of the distance that wasn't between them.

"Stay safe.. If I'm not mistaken we have some unfinished business to take care of afterwards."

He could stay alive for that. He smiled as he watched her walk down the hall.

----

Wesker was beaming with pride as he looked down at the Hunter which was crawling beside him. The scene grotesquely mimicked a father walking with his son. He turned back and looked at the building as he thought about the pair of survivors trapped inside. He took a small remote from his pocket and used his thumb to press in a code on its small keypad. "Boys and girls, meet my newest creation.." You see, he had to ensure their demise. It would do him absolutely no good if they made it out with any information. He only hoped the new Tyrant would keep them at bay..

He focused his attention back on the creature beside him. He bent down, put the briefcase on the ground and opened it. He removed a syringe that was filled with an orange liquid and jabbed it gently into the monster's thick hide. "Try some Veronica Virus, my pet."

"Oh how Chris was going to enjoy this," he said softly as he opened the back of an unmarked black van for the Hunter to get in.

----

Claire checked the Assault Rifle's ammo and grimaced. It was half empty already. She took a quick glance at Steve who raised six fingers in response. She nodded; about half empty for him too. Damned if she was a pessimist.

"Twenty minutes until the self destruction sequence is activated," a pause, "and please remember to have a nice day.." The female droned on, counting down to the explosion in a business like manner. "There are nineteen minutes and fifty seconds until the self.."

"We're hurrying, we're hurrying.." Claire muttered in response to the voice as she opened the metal door that led to the stairwell and begun her descent. Steve Burnside followed a few feet behind with a machine gun in each hand, struggling to catch up with her. She watched the floor numbers fly by as she took the steps two at a time. 10, 9, 8 -- ooh, eight had a blood splattered door, 7, 6, 5, 4 -- a large and equally broken lock lay next to that door, 3, 2.. 1? Only there wasn't an exit labeled number one.. there was a gaping hole in the wall covered with burning flames and red smears instead. She skidded and attempted to come to a halt to avoid a head-on collision with the smoldering fire. Her hand instinctively reached out for the banister and she ended up grabbing air; the railing had been ripped out and discarded to the side.

She leaned over, nearly falling several feet down onto the stairs that led to the underground floors of the complex. She stood for a second as she regained balance and glanced below, looking warily at the distance from where she was to where the ground was. That's when she saw the hat. A once yellow, now red construction worker's hat was broken in two; the pieces were adjacent to a badly twisted body that slightly resembled a pretzel. Her eyes ran along the corpse which was covered in wounds. Her gaze went up his torso, to his shoulders and then to his arms as she tried to assess what had actually killed him. The drop or other? Most likely other she guessed, as she wasn't aware of any falls that could leave long, intricate slices visable from a far. Then she noticed the gun that lay next to his outstretched hand and almost immediately lit up. "Steve!"

"What Red?" He was panting as he stood next to her. She could feel the body heat radiating off of him.

"Look. Down there." She pointed with her finger at the weapon. "Am I wrong or is that a Grenade Launcher? It looks too large to be a Shotgun and it's definitely not a Sniper Rifle.."

"We don't have the time to go get that." He ran his hand through his hair, still breathing heavily from his workout on the stairs.

"Why not? We're on the first floor anyway." She countered, looking at him.

"..We only have sixteen minutes.. even if I lowered you down there, how could you possibly get back up? There's way too much debris blocking the steps back up."

"Go on then. I'm not leaving without this weapon." She brushed past him and shoved him a little as she went for the fire hose that was on the wall in case of an emergency. Like the door, its container was completely shattered.

She was testing him and he knew it. Testing his loyality or some kind of bull shit. The grade A bs that appeared in those women magazines. God, why did girls always have to be so stubborn? "Fine, I'll help you.. be warned though, if we die because of this I'm going to be pissed." That was only half true though; he would have been glad to die with her. He thought about adding that on and deciding not to, figuring the statement would be lost to the tomboy.

She smiled and handed him the hose. "I knew you would Steve, because you _love _me.." She was just kidding, but he just had to wonder what would she do if she found out that was the truth.

  
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She grabbed the gun in her hands and checked the weapon over. Then she looted the guard's corpse as quickly as possible. Upon removing a first aid spray from the man's pocket, she yelled up at Burnside. "It has ten grenades. Think of all the damage we will be able to do!" Claire stood up and dusted her jeans off, moving to the hose that they had thrown down as a makeshift ladder. Bracing herself for the climb up, she strapped the gun onto her back and deftly sifted through her sidepacks looking for a space to put the healing ointment in.

"Ready to.." Steve felt something heavy smack his mid-section and his lower legs. His vision blurred as he felt himself being lifted into the air like a ragdoll. Then as quickly as he flew, he fell. He slammed into the concrete wall with a dull thud, meeting contact with the ground for a second before he was held up again. He saw yellow through his partially open eye. All yellow. Pulsating splotches of dull, mustard-like yellow. _Ohgodno_. He let go of conciousness and embracing the dark.

----

She looked up and realized why he had stopped speaking. Memories of him saving her, not the other way around, flooded her mind as she stared at the scene that was unfolding before her eyes. The Bandersnatch mauling Steve hadn't noticed her yet as it was too transfixed by its prey whom dangled between its claws. She scrambled up the wall with determination and stood, taking the AK off her back. She pressed her finger lightly on the trigger as she prepared to blow the beast's head off. This was all her fault. All her doing. If she hadn't of made him help her, he would be safe now instead of in this monster's grasp. She could have kicked herself if time had allowed. Way to go Redfield, way to go. Her finger pulled back the trigger.

Thud-bangbangbang.

Shots rang out and embeded themselves into the rancid yellow flesh. The smell of burning skin filled the air as the Bandersnatch whipped around and screamed, throwing Steve into the collapsing doorway. It dumbly stood there as she fired, its black eyes melded with hers and a fatal stare was exchanged. It was a simplistic glance, but in just a second it told both participants what was at stake. It was a fight to the death. She continued firing as she noticed its arm twitching, shaking even, violently. Claire dropped down the instant she saw a paw swiping through the air, but it was too little and most definitely too late. She felt something warm ooze out of her side and run down her legs. _"How do you want to die?" said the spider to the fly. _She felt faint as the blood left her system, never to return again. TICK**TICK**TICK. Seconds felt like eternity as the monster dragged her to him slowly. She distantly wondered if this was how one's last moments on Earth felt. Everything was so faded..

There was a loud grunt as the monsters grip loosened on her and she was in someone's arms. Young, strong limbs holding her up. Steve's arms pulling her away from the dead Badersnatch. That was when she saw his eyes that were filled with worry. "CLAIRE!"

"I'm..injured....see the blood..?" She looked pale and her clothing was quickly becoming drenched in red. Setting her on the ground, he lifted up her shirt to get a first hand look at the wound. It didn't appear to be life threatening but blood was fucking everywhere, turning her skin rusty. She was losing so much and so fast. She gave him a pained look. "How..bad is it?"

He answered by pulling his shirt over his head while he grabbed the combat knife from his boot. He begun to rip the cloth into vertical strips. "It's not that bad.. if I can come back from the dead, you can survive this."

"It hurts.." was all she offered before she shut her eyes.

He was filled with worry as he reached through her sidepack, pulling out the first aid spray. He didn't know medicine, he didn't know the extents of her wound and he didn't know if she was going to be alright. All he knew was that it was up to him to get her bandaged up and out of this building before six minutes if she was going to have a chance at all. He hiked her clothing up further and whiped the mess of blood and sweat off her torso with half of his shirt. His head hurt like a bitch and it was amazingly hard to focus as he tried to spray the wound. Stuffing the aid spray back into her pouch, he wrapped the other half of his clothes around her stomach and gently took her into his arms, the way a knight might to his lady. He stepped over the rubble from the doorway and moved down the hall, half-running and half-tripping on his gangly teenage limbs. "Don't worry Claire, I'll save you this time."


	4. Staring at the Sun

**Author's Notes: **Yadayada, this chapter has been rough for me and I didn't get to add as much as I wanted to it. I couldn't make the fight scene flow with the emotions and I really, really wanted to add a fight scene. Instead this chapter became mostly the aftermath of the building's explosion. Emotions, emotions. Oh well, had to deal with some romance sometime. Can't always avoid it, can I? Don't worry, next chapter will be very violent. Very. I promise blood. Must appease those RE gods/desses. Comments can be sent to the reviews or to rhea@mayaku.org. Love 'yall.

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_Chapter 4; Staring at the Sun_

_-----_

The cold air hit his skin and he stopped abruptly right outside the building's exit. The world was completely silent except for the final sixty-second countdown that was echoing over the loudspeakers and his heartbeat. It was _empty_. His grip on Claire noticibly tightened as he surveyed the dead scene before him, neck and arms prickling with gooseflesh. It was as if he had happened upon on a stage exposed to no one and everyone at the same time and although his eyes told him they were alone, his mind begged to differ: _Come see living dead boy_. The feeling of being watched ran through his thoughts and he briefly considered waking her, then decided against it because she looked comfortable in his arms. He told himself that his paranoia was probably just a side effect from being suprised by the Bandersnatch earlier and kicked the thought out of his mind.

He scuffed his boot in the concrete and glanced at the various assortment of vehicles littering the area; their owners were inside the building, half-lying half-drowning in pools of their own blood. He shook his head. Christ. The computer broke him from his thoughts: "Forty seconds until detonation."

  
He broke into a clumsy jog and made a beeline to the jeep that was furthest away. Placing Claire against it, he took a seat and looked at her. The teenage boy heard a moan as she took a deep breath and watched her chest rise and fall, smiling. He'd saved her. Her eyelids lifted up and her gaze slowly turned to him. "Is it, are we..?"  
He motioned for her to quiet with his finger, pressing it gently against his lips. His other hand found hers and gave it a squeeze. "We made it." She looked up at him and that was when he noticed the tears that were streaking down her cheeks. They welled up in her eyes and fell to the ground. His instincts told him to pull her against him and so he did. She buried her face into his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her shaking body and sobbed. He gently pushed her against ground to shield both of them from the rubble that was about to be sent into the air. He was still holding her. "It's over.."

"Oh.. Steve.." The rest of her words were drowned out by the alarms as they sounded for the final countdown.

"Self destruction in 5, 4, 3.." They were still trapped in the platonic embrace when the structure ceased to exist.

-----

The ground was shaking as she woke up next to Steve. Faint tremors ran up from the asphalt to her body, causing every nerve to feel like it was on fire as the pain coursed through her. She shuddered violently, then ran her hands over her exposed midsection and felt the bandages. As she took her hand off her torso, she noticed there was a sticky resistance. She stuck the hand out in the air and saw the red. Blood. Her blood. Her half-dried blood. Damn. No wonder everything ached. Claire lazily rolled over and turned herself away from him, straight into the smoggy air. She took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, choking on the ashes. The air was heavy with smoke and she could taste the burning, smell the burning and see the burning. The younger Redfield pushed herself up off the ground and glanced around, analyzing the situation they were in.

The first thing she noticed was that the twenty story building was gone. The only remaining evidence that the complex had ever existed were the piles of concrete that lay in its place, rebar sticking out of the ruins like broken bones. The parking lot seemed to be in mourning the loss of the tall landmark and a fire hydrant that was knocked over on its side wept, sending patches of water into the spreading fire. _Ssschh_. Her blue eyes darted to the car they had been lying against and she found that it was only slightly charred by the explosion. She looked down. Steve was propped up against the vehicle with his arms sprawled out, mapping where she had been. This brought a smile to her face, but the pain quickly ate it away. She staggered over, kicking him gently in the shoulder. "You alive?"

His eyes fluttered and he jumped up, banging his head against the side mirror with a thud. He blushed a little as he tried to stand and failed. "...Yeah."

Claire's hand automatically clamped over her mouth, stifling the giggles. He was so clumsy and cute. Especially cute. She offered her other hand to him. "Let me help you up."

There was a lengthy pause as he thought about her offer, but she already knew the answer was no. She sighed as he swatted away her arm playfully and stood, giving a shake of his head in her direction. He was looking her over and reassuring himself that she wasn't hurt too badly when his eyes came to a stop at her bandage covered stomach. "How bad is it?"

"A lot better." She lied, forcing a half-smile. 

"Claire, give me the truth.." The girl's body language spelled out pain and her facial expression was faltering. A hand was casually placed on her hip, feinging a pissed off stance to hide the persistant burning in her gut. As he gave it another glance, he realized that she was applying pressure to the wound. He knew it hurt and her lack of emotion towards the injury gave him an understand what exactly Redfields were made of..

"Ok.. so it hurts like a bitch," she paused and searched for the right words, "..but it's nothing serious."

"I think there's still some first aid spray around here." As he saw her puzzled look, he added: "Check your packs." 

"Sounds good." Claire started to search through the pockets. She took out the white cylander and popped the lid off with her thumb in one swift motion. "Hold this for me, Steve." She tossed him the bottle, letting the cap hit the ground with a thud as she lifted up her shirt to unwrap the blood-soaked cloth. 

He deftly caught the first aid spray and nearly dropped it, startled by the cold metal against his warm flesh. She grunted in pain as she looked at the horizontal slash and his eyes turned to the red which streaked across her pale skin. It looked surreal. The blood resembled thickly applied make-up and it ran along the surface of her stomach in a curvy formation, stopping to clump together in the center, near her bellybutton.

"..Do you think you could help me?" The painful expression faded from her face to one that was void of emotion as she spoke.

"Of course." He pointed his index finger to the jeep. "Sit down on the hood."

She sat down on the off-white surface and dangled her legs over the edge, swinging them back and fourth. She motioned for him to spray her wound as she held up the shirt. "I wonder if this car still works." Hopefulness filled her voice.

"It probably does," after brief thought he said ".. are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Hotwire it. Leave this place. Go back to Leon and Chris?"

Leon? _Leon_? The guy she'd sent an email to? Were he and her an item? _Leon_? LEON? The name echoed through his head and he stilled. Leon, Leon, Leon. Leon's got your girl. Oh yes he does Burnside. Gonna get her back? Steve stood there, amazed by the jealousy that was overloading his brain. He closed his eyes and exhaled. _Breathe big boy, breathe_...

"Steve?" 

He couldn't even look at her. 


	5. Bullet Proof

**Author's Notes: **After a long wait, I finally put out chapter five. I'm kind of sad that I haven't been getting much feedback, but that's life. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Free free to email me with any suggestions. ( rhea@mayaku.org )

----

_Chapter 5; Bullet Proof_

He wouldn't.

"Steve?"

_Claire Kennedy_.

"Steve? Are you okay?"

He finally opened his eyes and the world came back into focus; she was still clutching her t-shirt and he'd dropped the canister on the ground like an idiot. Her face showed bewilderment and a hand was on his shoulder. He bent down and stiffly retrieved the spray."Oh.. sorry."

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No." It made so much sense, his mind had figured it all out. How could he have been so foolish to think she could have felt the least bit romantic towards him? Girls didn't love dead guys, they moved on. Especially someone like her. She was no exception to the rule. The dead were dead. Hadn't she said that to him when he killed his dad? It all fell together like a blow to the stomach and his ability to speak was gone. _Steve Burnside has left the building folks_, he thought dryly.

"Are you sure..?"

"I'm fine, Claire." He was still shocked about his feelings. His protectiveness. His desire for her to think of him first, not Leon Kennedy or her brother. Then it hit him, hadn't she kissed him? Maybe he was overreacting. This thought sated his worry for the time being and he went back to working on her wound, spraying the antibacterial all over.

She gasped as cold met hot and tried to resist the urge to pull away. The foamy mixture was bubbling on the cut and she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming out. Despite how many times she'd been injured, she could never get over the feeling or the smell of the potent healing mixture. As the scent of the first aid spray wafted to her nostrils, she was reminded of Chris Redfield and an incident where she'd fallen off her bike at age seven. It seemed like just yesterday that she had come crashing onto the sidewalk in front of Chris' friends..

..She'd gone down, followed by a flight of laughter as all of his friends snickered. "Go play tea party." They had jeered at the tomboy as Chris walked over, taking her into his arms. Then he'd stared at the boys with a fierce sense of protectiveness, the kind only a brother could generate. But even that look hadn't silenced the kids: they had kept stating that she was just a girl who had no damn business trying to tag along with them, even if she _was _a Redfield. The older sibling had ignored them nobly and instead of putting her down, he had decided to walk with her back to their house. Then, while washing the multiple scrapes and scratches out with Bactine, he'd told her that she could always count on him. This memory made her realize how much she missed him. How much she wished he was there. How everything seemed better with Chris around. They had been united three months ago only to be divided again. Life was a bitch _and then you died_. That statement wasn't completely true though.. She had Steve..

"Almost done." Steve patted the area down using the blood spattered cloth and then began to wrap the t-shirt's remnents around her waist. He was finished within minutes. He stood back, admiring his handywork. Not too bad. He glanced up at her, smiling. "All done."

"God that hurt worse than the actual injury. Thanks though." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pushed herself off the hood, landing with a dull thud. 

"Claire, behind you!"

She spun around and her eyes widened; something was climbing out of the building's rubble. Chunks of concrete went skyward as the being surfaced, revealing the familar icy blue skin with a loud grunt. She exhaled sharply. "That's Tyrant.."

"What's that?" Steve asked softly as he watched the creature emerging from the ruins. He gave it a minute or two before it would be fully mobile and ready to destroy. He turned to Claire and his eyes were asking what they should do.

"A killing machine that's roughly related to what you became when Alexia injected you with the T-Veronica Virus. Trust me.. we're screwed.. unless.." Her eyes brightened as she remembered the fiasco with the Bandersnatch and the weapon.

"Unless..?" He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear her plan. He remembered what it'd been like to be a monster and the urge for blood shed followed by the need to destroy everything. He'd almost killed her. That fact still haunted his every move and he wondered if it could ever go away. Could he ever forgive himself for his actions? Turning his attention back to the problem at hand, he prayed that this creation wasn't as relentless as he had been. If it was, they didn't stand a chance..

"We could disable it.." She took the Grenade Launcher off her back and held it in her hands, twirling it around.

"Let me do it then." He wasn't asking, he was demanding.

"I've fought one before, I can--"

He cut her off, his voice rising. "You can what.. die? No. You're not dying on me Claire Redfield. You're not. I won't let you. You've already lost your share of blood for the day. It's my turn. I won't let someone I love die. You're too hurt. He would.. he would.." He trailed off, realizing what he had just said. He hadn't meant to complicate matters and if he wasn't been so concerned and frantic, he would have been blushing.

She stared at him. "You..love..me?"

He nodded.

The silence was broken by a loud sound as chunks of formally airborne concrete came crashing into ground. It was a maelstorm of debris as the beast tried to break free from the makeshift prison: time was running out. She handed Steve the gun and brought her hand up to his cheek in an attempt to reassure him. She wished she could make everything fade away into a bubble that consistedg of them and nothing else. She took her hand from him and sent herself out of the fantasy. She couldn't say what she wanted to; it would only distract Steve in a sick game where distraction spelt death. "Go, before he gets loose. I'm going to get this jeep working and then I'll swing by and get you. Then we're gone, even if it's still alive. We're escaping this hell alive and together. Got me?"

"Yes." He muttered, turning to run.  


"And Steve?"

"Hm?" He paused, looking back at her.

"Stay safe."

----

Claire yanked at the Jeep's door handle and found that it was locked. It took a moment for the meaning of this to hit her and as it did, she stopped thinking logically. Instinct kicked in and her thoughts weren't much different from Tyrant's; they were made up of pure impulse. She didn't feel panic, sorrow or worry. Instead she felt a strange sense of exhilaration that ran through her whole body and it told her to move, to hurry.. to survive. She unstrapped the Assault Rifle from her back and raising it above her head, sent the gun slamming into the car's window. The glass shattered and pieces cascaded onto her exposed skin, hooking into her flesh like minuscule teeth. She didn't cry out. In her frenzied state, Claire brushed the iridescent shards off her arms and reached inside the hole where the window had previously been. Unlocking the door, she set the gun on the dashboard and begun to hotwire the Jeep.

----

Steve Burnside had never been so terrified in his life. He wanted to turn around and run like hell, but his legs were frozen in place. Transfixed by the monster emerging from the rubble, he stood there wasting valuable seconds. He had to do _something_. He knew there have no chance if Tyrant was untouched when it reached him, but the Grenade Launcher stayed in the same place as before; at his side.

_Would you like to die in front of Claire again?  
Not really.  
Then you have to move.._

He groaned inwardly at his mind's proposition and took a deep breath, followed by a step forward.  
  
The monster had its back turned to the seventeen year old and was free from the rubblem, revealing its full size, which was twice his height. Steve shuddered and breathed in, taking aim. He breathed out and pulled the trigger.

Steve stumbled backwards as the gun fired and watched the grenade fly into Tyrant. The muscular body shuddered then swiveled around, uninjured. A pair of black eyes penetrated his and the gaze was cold it froze him in place. He swallowed. This had been a bad plan, a really horrible one. Tyrant's eyes were two bottomless pits of death, one for Claire and one for himself. He stepped back clumsly and franatically tried get aim for its head. 

He fired again and that's when the hulk started to walk in his direction. The feet clomped on the ground, one labored step after another and they caused the earth to shake violently. He shot again and Tyrant pressed on. Everything was happening in slow motion. Another round met the hard flesh and the creature stopped. Had it felt something? Or maybe...

Tyrant charged at him. 

_Run.  
I can't.  
Run for christ's sake._

His legs acted before his mind did, breaking into a sprint. His pace quickened as his limbs carried him away from the oncoming terror. He ran harder; away from the Jeep, the building and then into the field. Tyrant was right behind him and it was getting closer, so close that he could hear its breathing. His chest was burning and in a detached way he wondered how much longer he could run. He couldn't die this way.. he was Steve Burnside, he was seventeen, he wasn't meant to die--

--and he was pinned on the ground before he realized what was happening. Claws slid down his side, lightly at first then with more pressure. The beast was toying with its catch. He felt the blood leaking from his side and stilled. Irrationally, he thought:_ it's going to gut me, gonna kill me_.. then his thoughts were interrupted as the weight on his back disapeared along with the claws. It had changed its mind. He looked up as Tyrant lifted him up into the air. He staring at the boy dangling from his arms, deciding what to do and Steve took this opportunity to shove the Grenade Launcher in its face. This was his final stand. If this didn't work, he died. He was calm as he found himself pulling the trigger.

He fell with the hidious mutated creature. They were in a fatal embrace and Tyrant was slashing at him as they collapsed. He pulled the trigger once more. The world became a splotchy red and he cried out as he hit the pavement. Sprawled out next to Tyrant, Steve was fading in and out of conciousness. Everything hurt. Then he thought he heard the squeal of tires..

He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, he thought he saw an angel running to him. His vision blurry and she faded in and out, like a tv bad reception that was ridden with static. He wondered if she had come to take him to Heaven. She reached where the two lay and grabbed the weapon, stepping back. She shot the remaining rounds into Tyrant and he saw that her lips moving; the girl was saying something to the suffering creature. She turned back to him and tossed the gun down.

"Steve." She shook him. "It's still alive, come on, wake up. We need to go." She wrapped her arms around him and he could hear her heart hammering. Her voice was on the verge of becoming hysterical. "Steve.. open your eyes. Open your fucking eyes."

"Claire..." It wasn't an angel, it was her. He stuggled to stand and felt one of her arms slip around his waist. They gripped eachother tightly and half-carried, half-staggered to the Jeep.

----

After securing Steve in the passenger's seat, she slammed her foot on the accelerator and sped off. Claire didn't bother to look back at the stunned Tyrant, it scared her. She followed the road from the parking lot to the highway and after some time, glanced down at the boy next to her. He was sleeping. Keeping one hand on the wheel, she slowly ran her fingers through his tanged hair. She could feel him tense up from her touch and she quickly removed her hand. She didn't want to disturb him: he needed and deserved his rest.

She felt alone, but it was okay. She was used to isolation. Her mission was to find a payphone and reach Chris because once they reached the older Redfield, it would all be okay.


	6. Missing in Action

**Author's Note:** This is a lot more "relationship oriented" and it doesn't have much action. It may be confusing because it starts out with Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield: not Steve and Claire. If you remember where we left off, Claire and Steve had just barely escaped alive and were heading to where Chris was.  
  
This chapter'll briefly goes over _why_ Claire caught by Wesker and it features a lot of the other star RE characters now. Sure it's chaos but give it awhile, you might grow to like it. Don't be afraid to try new things. In case you were wondering, the reason why I haven't written much is due to writer's block and school. Damn school to the depths of Raccoon City. I'd like to see it take on Nemesis. ~ Rhea@Mayaku.org

----

_Missing in Action; Chapter 6_

----

Chris stared out the house's window into the outskirts rain-covered Paris. The city was crying for his sister. So were his team mates. Leon had been the one to take the news the hardest; he hadn't spoken once in the four day period. Right after hearing what was going on, he'd locked himself into his room, insisting on hacking into databases to find where Umbrella had taken her. It was easy to blame the large corperation for everything, but Chris didn't think Umbrella was responsible for his sister's disapearence. The whole thing reeked of Albert Wesker; he had to be the only man brave enough to kidnap a Redfield. He was going to regret taking her, Chris would make sure of that.

The older Redfield heard his door open and turned around slowly. It was his girlfriend, Jill Valentine. She walked over to him and put her arms on his shoulders.

"Hey.." She offered, meekly.

"Any news?" That was all he ever asked these days. She knew he was hurting, but she'd never seen him like this. To be honest, it scared the former S.T.A.R.'s member. Even when the siblings had been seperated earlier that year, Chris had never concentrated solely on their reunion.

"No.. but," Jill started to rub his back, ".. You have to remember, she's nearly twenty. Whatever is dealt to her, I'm sure she can handle. And not only is she a big girl now, she's a Redfield. She's grown up since Raccoon City. Something happened in the Artic, it changed her. I have faith she'll be back."

Chris pulled away from her and went back to looking out the window. "But she's my sister.."

"That's exactly my point. She's just like you."

He was growing impatient.. he appreciated Jill's efforts, but this was no time for games. "In otherwords, no news?"

"..No. But I don't think it was Umbrella," she paused then, under her breath, "_this time_." She gave a slight shake of her head and he watched as strands of her brown hair fell into her eyes. These actions reminded him of Claire, who'd done that numerous times. Chris sighed heavily at this thought. He didn't know how many times he'd wished that the whole group hadn't banded together to destroy Umbrella, whose head base was located in the heart of Paris. If they hadn't of come to Barry's summer house with ill-wished intents towards the company, Claire wouldn't have been walking around looking for clues in the middle of the night. His sister wouldn't be missing in action. In a nutshell, it was all his fault.

She saw his facial expressions faulter and was walking over to give him a hug when door opened. Leon ran in.  
  
Chris turned and stared at the ex-cop coldly. "Can't you learn to knock?"

"It's Claire," he stammered, "..she's there--"

"Where?" Jill interrupted.

".. On the doorstep. This strange boy is with her.." A fourth voice chimed it, and Chris looked over to see a young girl leaning into the doorway; Rebecca Chambers. "She's bleeding."

"She told me to get you. She looks like she's been through hell and--" Leon was cut off as Chris slammed the door, leaving the others behind. 

----  
  
She groped blindly for the door knob of the house and found it was locked. Leon had told her to stay in the car, but she had known that they couldn't stay in the car any longer. It was full of ghosts. She'd practically dragged the two of them out of the tattered Jeep and she was regretting it. Claire looked at Steve, who was propped up against the pink shingled wall and mouthed "locked". He whiped a pool of blood that was forming on his face with the back of his arm and pointed to his wrist; they had time. 

She wanted to tell him that they didn't, that she felt extremely weak, but all she could get out was a small moan before collapsing to the porch. He stumbled to her and sat down, stroking his hand through her hair. "Claire..hang in there."

They were still on the porch when Chris opened the door and walked out, followed by Barry, Jill, Sherry, Leon and Rebecca. 

"It's Claire and.. who is the boy?" Jill stared. "Chris, do you know?"

"Steve. Steve Burnside." Chris Redfield knelt down to his sister and pulled her up into a sitting position, hugging her softly.

"How'd...you.. know.. who I am?" Steve managed to get out.

"My sister, Claire, wears your picture around her neck. She says she got it off your," he paused, "**dead** body. She wears it in a pendant and it's the only jewelry she'll wear. For chris'sake, I think I'd know the name of the boy who broke her heart." Chris replied, bitterly.

Steve didn't reply as Rebecca and Jill helped him inside. He turned back for a second and saw coldness in the older man's eyes. It was directed towards him. His last thought before sleeping was: "_I'm here now, I came back.. for her. Isn't that all that counts?_"

----

"Chris, he's staying. He can help us." Claire shot a look at her brother.

"Claire, dead people just don't come back. It's probably a sick game of Wesker's. And you're sure the man that beat you up was Wesker?" Chris noticed the glare and returned it.

"Yes, I'm _sure_. He nearly killed me, do I have to verify that too?" She rolled her eyes. "Back to the Steve situation: he's staying."

"Claire, he tried to kill you and he could still morph into a monster at anytime. To harbor him in this house would be like keeping Tyrant in our basement. To be correct, Barry's basement. What would we tell him if Tyrant-Steve broke a bottle of his expensive wine..?"   
  
"Stop calling him that! His name is Steve Burnside, not Tyrant-Steve. You make him sound like some fucking monster." She picked at the bandages that were wrapped around her arm and exposed torso.

"He's not the same Steve you knew."

"Of course not. He came back to life. He's traumatized." She succeeded in ripping a small piece of the bandage off. _Riiiiip_.

"Claire, stop being difficult. I just want you.. to move on. It's been three months. Three months of listening to you cry. Three months of rejecting Leon." He stated. The words were losing convinction; Chris knew he was losing this sibling war.

"Move on? Are you really one to judge about moving on? You're as obsessed with Wesker as he is about you." She retorted.

"It's just... I care about you Claire, you're my little sister. I don't want to see you broken again." He sat down on the bed, next to her and wrapped his arm around her good shoulder.

"I know, I know." She returned the hug and stood up, wincing in pain. "You owe me this much at least. Give him a chance, will you?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope." She smiled and stumbled to the door. "I'm going to go talk to him.."

"He's in the room that's four doors down from here." Chris called out as she left.

----

Claire knocked on the door lightly. "Steve?"

After a lengthy silence, he spoke. "Come in. Shut the door behind you."

She stepped inside and was greeted with a wave from Steve, who was sitting upright on the bed. He looked decent for a boy who had been mauled by Tyrant. His eyes brightened as they focused on her. "How's life?" She asked. 

"I was getting lonely.. the only visitor I've gotten in the last two days was Rebecca..." 

"She's a good medic." 

"Sit down." He patted the bed. "Yeah.. she is. I feel better." 

She sat down across from him, sprawling her legs out before her. They nearly touched his. "That's good." 

"We have to speak about what happened a few days ago. Back_ there_." 

"What happened was we both nearly died." She looked into his eyes. "What else is there to say?" 

Dead air. Steven was the first to break it. "I need to know something Claire.." His gaze locked with hers and she became aware of how green his eyes were, how different they looked when he wasn't stressed. This was the first time she hadn't seen him fighting for his life and he looked serene, noble. She nodded for him to ask his question. "Do you love me?" 

"I.." She choked and her lips mimiced those cryogentically frozen. "I care about you.." She finally choked it out. 

She saw his smile turn upside down and watched as he tried to conceal the hurt, the pain. His efforts were unsuccessful and Claire stared as a single tear drifted and collided with the curves of his face. She put her hand on his shoulder and before she realized what was happening, she was kissing him. 

_ - He died Tyrant Steve, Tyrant Steve.. he's fucking Tyrant Steve!  
- Don't call him that!  
- But he is.. he's a monster._

She shut her eyes as the memories of the conversation with her brother ran into her mind. They knocked her to her senses and she gasped, pulling away. "Steve.. I.. we.. can't." 

Silence. There was no noise except for their quickened breath. Steve exhaled loudly. He moved back and opened his eyes, revealing a distant look; one that hadn't been there before. The seventeen year old slowly waved his hand, dismissing her. "Why don't you go get ready for dinner? Maybe Leon needs help or something.." 

Leon didn't cook and they both knew it, yet she nodded as she stood. "Steve.. I'm just confused.. give me time.." 

He paused and then spoke: "Isn't it ironic everyone wants the one thing we don't have?" 

"What's that?" She stopped in the doorway, looking over her shoulder. 

"Time. We don't have time. I should have stayed dead..." 

"Steve.." She didn't know what to say and so she walked out the door. 

---- 


	7. Drowning

Author Note: It's been awhile since I've written a chapter for this story but I feel that this one is very adequate and also very.. creepy. It's a lot more violent than normal and I would love to see how you guys take it ;) This chapter includes the DEATH of a rather infamous character. Gee.. who could it be?

Reviews are, as always, appreciated and if you have any wild ideas for this story, let me know. ;p -- rhea@mayaku.org

-----

_Chapter 7 - Drowning_

----

Claire glanced out the window to check up on the storm; the rain was attacking the panes so violently that she wondered if they would break. Deciding they wouldn't, she pressed her nose against the glass and stared out into the darkness, focusing on the dim light that was Paris at night. She thought about walking in those streets with Steve, treating it like the trip to Hawaii they had never gotten to take. "Aloha," she murmered. "Aloh-fucking-ha."

She'd considered apologizing to him and she'd considered telling him she loved him, but the words didn't want to come out of her mouth. When words didn't want to come, it was always best to wait for them; she knew that from experience. Until the words came she was stuck with a broken-hearted boy three rooms down, an anxious brother in the room across and a RPD cop trying to woo her next door. Despite this, she was glowing with this profound sense of love and the image of them kissing on his bed was on replay in her head. They had kissed twice and she didn't want the feeling to die. Ever. She wanted to capture it in a bottle and place it in a secure area where nothing could penetrate it and nothing could ruin it. It was untouchable and when she was with him, **they** were untouchable. She closed her eyes, living in the feeling which was still so vivid, imagining that they were out there in the storm. Oh yes, she could feel his arms wrapping around her waist.. she could feel him..

It was raining so hard that she failed to hear the claws scraping against the glass. If she had turned her head left, she would have seen a pale face with blonde hair leaning against the outside of her window. If she had turned her head left, she would have had a chance. If she had turned her head left, she would have seen the hateful glare of Albert Wesker and his special Hunter who was eagerly clawing at the window.

It wasn't meant to be. She turned her head right and lazily hit the lightswitch. Claire Redfield collapsed onto her bed, quickly falling into a sleep that consisted of Hawaii, Gold Lugers and happiness.

Outside, drenched in rain, Wesker looked into the window and watched the sister of his arch-nemesis sleep. "It's almost time now," he said, patting the Hunter and effectionately scratching its head, "Almost time for them to learn the meaning of true pain." The Hunter growled in agreement as Wesker scratched its head again, checking his watch. It was almost time for stage two of his plan to be carried out. Soon all would be good in the world and the Redfields would get taught a lesson. Glorious day!

The promise the night held was enough to make Wesker grin as he jumped down from the window and beckoned for the Hunter follow. It was time to check on the other members of the household, to ensure there would be nothing standing between him and his revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.

-----

Steve couldn't sleep. He tossed, he turned, he counted Tyrants and eventually sat up. The question that was keeping him from shutting his eyes was quite simple: did Claire love him? He didn't know how to deal with the rejection that she constantly threw at him because he knew that she had feelings for him. They had kissed twice; both times were started by her. He realized that she probably wasn't sure how to deal with it, but why? That's what was bothering him and keeping him from sleep. Of course, aside from the problem she had of expressing her feelings, a wild card named Leon Kennedy existed.. did they have something? Something he should know about?

He sighed. He had to know. It was as simple as that.

The teenager got up and stepped out of his room. He padded down the hall and stopped outside a certain nineteen year old's door.

Knock. Knock.

After a brief moment: "Jesus, it's three am... who's there?"

"Your knight in shining armor."

The door opened.

-------

Jill Valentine pulled the video out of the VCR and grinned as she placed it back into the container. She looked back at Chris who was sitting on the couch in the house's den. "Good movie, huh?"

He nodded. "I can't believe the Night of the Living Dead people portrayed zombies like that though. I mean, if only they were that easy to defeat.. then maybe so many wouldn't die.."

She sighed as she saw his happy expression slowly turning worried. Jill quickly steered him off the subject: "Forget about zombies. There's you. There's me. There's a couch."

"There are also other people in the house." He said, being sensible like always.

She stood up and sat down on the couch, leaning on him in an attempt to change his mind."They're asleep."

"But.."

"No buts," she said as she put her lips against his to silence him.

As it turns out, his mind was easily changed.

------

Leon was typing on his computer with his headphones on, trying to figure out the Umbrella Headquarter's floor plan when he heard a scratching sound. He turned around to check out what it was and found something cold pressing directly into the center of his forehead. It was a glock.

"Wesker.." He choked back a scream as he saw the Hunter in the man's shadow.

"Well, well. Fancy seeing you here.. hello, Leon. Ada sends her sincerest apologies that she couldn't make the meeting," he said, seemingly oblivious of the beast standing next to him. Wesker looked at the young man's eyes and followed their gaze to the Hunter. "This is m'pet, doesn't have a name. Injected him with some of Alexia's virus, lovely stuff, isn't it? Immortal."

Leon nodded slowly.

"What's a matter, cat got your tongue?" Wesker paused, waiting for a response. Realizing he wasn't going to get one, he pressed the gun against the ex-cop's forehead with more force. "I asked if the cat had your tongue?"

"No. No sir. No." Oh god, how he wished this wasn't happening. "What do you want?"

"What are the group's plans for tomorrow?"

"Oh, we were.. going to.. look at Umbrella's main building.. we need to get the plans down, ya know?" He was trembling and from the strain that was surrounding the crotch of his paints, he'd pissed himself. Poor, idiotic fool.

"And Chris?"

"Chris and Jill were going to rent a motel room a few streets away from the company's headquarters, to spy."

"What was the hotel's name?" The boy was giving him so much information. Amazing what people would do to save their life.. their pathetic, worthless life. Albert was never going to have to worry about dying- he'd beaten that demon a long time. Nothing could kill him now. He was superman minus the good deeds and weakness to kryptonite. He barely managed to resist the urge to burst into laughter as he waited for a response.

"..I think it was a really five star one. You know? The kind that famous people go to," he looked at Wesker hopefully, ".. that's all I have."

"I also want one more thing from you.." The former police chief paused, deliberately keeping Leon in suspense.

"Anything. Anything! It's yours!"

"...I want you dead."

Leon's eyes lit up as he took the words into his brain, processing them. He went into shock when he realized their meaning. He couldn't die this way! He had escaped zombies, he had killed Mr. X, he had fought Dr. Birkin. He wasn't meant to die a coward's death.. he wasn't meant to die begging.. he wasn't meant to--

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Leon gasped and fell onto the floor. A few seconds later, his thoughts ended and he died an anti-climatic death from the three shots to the head. After a few minutes of silence, the Hunter dashed over to the fallen officer and started to gnaw on his leg. _Crunch, crunch_.. hey, it tasted just like chicken! It was happy. Wesker was happy. Glorious day! Glorious day!

"Thank god for silencers," laughed Wesker as he stuck the gun back into his holster and scratched the pet's head once again. _Crunch, crunch. _"Now lets see where that Chris is.."

-----

A few rooms over, Claire pulled away from a kiss that was shared with Steve, sat up on her bed and looked into the darkness. "Did you hear that? It sounded like a gunshot.."


End file.
